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About Google Book Search Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web at |http : //books . google . com/ THE PROFESSOR- 3. ©aU. C U R R E R BELL, v^*-^ ▲UTHOB OF "JAKB BTRB,** "SHIBLBT," "VILLBTTB,*' &C. NEW YORK: HABPEB & BBOTHEBS^ PUBLISHEBS, FRANKLIN SQUABR 1867. * 3o S^^Wwu^v^ S,..qvx£>^- FEB 11 I9IB PREFACE. This little book was written before either " Jane Eyre" or " Siirley," and yet no indulgence can be so- Jicited for it on the plea of a fiiist attempt. A first at- tempt it certainly was not, as the pen which wrote it had been previously worn a good deal in a practice of some years. I had not indeed published any thing before I commenced "The Professor," but in many a crude effort, destroyed almost as soon as composed, I had got over any such taste as I might once have had for ornamented and redundant composition, and come to prefer what was plain and homely. At the same time, I had adopted a set of principles on the subject of incident, &c., such as would be generally approved in theory, but the result of which, when carried out into practice, often procure for an author more sur- prise than pleasure. I said to myself that my hero should work his way through life as I had seen real living men work theirs ; that he should never get a shilling he had not earned ; that no sudden turns should lift him in a moment to wealth and high station ; that whatever small compe- tency he might gain should be won-by the sweat of his brow ; that, before he could find so much as an arbor VI PREJ-ACE. to sit down in, he should master at least half the as- cent of " the Hill of Difficulty ;" that he should not even marry a beautiful girl nor a lady of rank. As Adam's son, he should share Adam's doom, and drain throughout life a mixed and moderate cup of enjoy- ment. In the sequel, howev^, I found that publishers in general scarcely approved of this system, but would have liked something more imaginative and poetical^ — something more consonant with a highly-wrought fan- cy, with a taste for pathos, with sentiments more ten- der, elevated, unworldly. Indeed, until an author has tried to dispose of a manuscript of this kind, he can never know what stores of romance and sensibility lie hidden in breasts he would not have suspected of cas- keting such treasures. Men in business are usually thought to prefer the real ; on trial, the idea will be often found fallacious : a passionate preference for the wild, -wonderful, and thrilling — ^the. strange, startling, and harrowing, agitates divers souls that show a calm and sober surface. Such being the case, the reader will comprehend that to have reached him in the form of a printed book, this brief narrative must have gone through some struggles — ^which indeed it has. And, after all, its worst struggle, and strongest ordeal is yet to come; but it takes comfort — subdues fear — Cleans on the staff of a moderate expectation, and mutters under its breath, while lifting its eye to that of the public, - <*He that is low need fear no fall.'* CuRRER Bell. PREFACE. Vll The foregoing preface was written by my wife with a view to the publication of '* The Professor," shortly after the appearance of " Shirley." Being dissuaded from her intention, the authoress made some use of the materials in a subsequent work — " Villette." As, however, these two stories are in most respects unlike, it has been represented to me that I ought not to withhold " The Professor'* from the public. I have, therefore, consented to its publication. A. B. NiCHOLi^ Eaworth Parsonage^ SqtUmher 22dy 1856. > ' THE PROFESSOR CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTORY. The other day, in looking over my papers, I fonnd in my desk the following copy of a letter, sent by me a year since to an old school acquaintance : " Dear Charles, — ^I think when you and I were at Eton together, we were neither of us what could be called popular characters. You were a sarcastic, observant, shrewd, cold-blooded creature; my own portrait I will not attempt to draw, but I can not rec- ollect that it was a strikingly attractive one — can you ? What animal magnetism drew thee and me together I ""4 know not; certainly I never experienced any thing of the Pylades and Orestes sentiment for you, and I have reason to believe that you, on your part, were equally free from all romantic regard to me. Still, out of school hours, we walked and talked continually together; when the theme of conversation was our companions or our masters, we understood each other, and when I recurred to some sentiment of affection, some vague love of an excellent or beautiftd object, whether in animate or inanimate nature, your sardonic coldness did not move me. I felt myself superior to that check then as I do now. A 2 10 THE PEOFESSOB. " It is a long time since I wrote to you, and a still longer time since I saw you. Chancing to take up a newspaper of your county the other day, my eye fell upon your name. I began to think of old times ; to run over the events which have transpired since we separated ; and I sat down and commenced this letter. What you have been doing I know not ; but you shall hear, if you choose to listen, how the world has wag- ged with me. "First, after leaving Eton, I had an interview with my maternal uncles. Lord Tynedale and the Hon. John Seacombe. They asked me if I would enter the Church, and my uncle the nobleman oflFered me the living of Seacombe, which is in his gift, if I would ; then my other uncle, Mr. Seacombe, hinted that when I became rector of Seacombe-cum-Scaife, I might per- haps be allowed to take, as mistress of my. house and head of my parish, one of my six cousins, his daugh« ters, all of whom I greatly dislike. " I declined both the Church and matrimony. A good clergyman is a good thing, but I should have made a very bad one. As to the wife — oh how like a nightmare is the thought of being bound for life to one of my cousins ! No doubt they are accomplished and pretty ; but not an accomplishment, not a charm of theirs, touches a chord in my bosom. To think of passing the winter evenings by the parlor fireside of Seacombe Rectory alone with one of them — ^for in- stance, the large and well-modeled statue, Sarah — no ; I should be a ba)3 husband, under such circumstances, as well as a bad clergyman. " When Had declined my uncles* offers they asked THE PBOPESSOB. 11 me * what I intended to do.' I said I should reflect. They remmded me that I had no fortune, and no ex- pectation of any, and, after a considerable pause, Lord Tynedale demanded sternly * whether I had thoughts of following my father's steps and engaging in trade.' Now I had had no thoughts of the sort I do not think my turn of mind qualifies me to make a good tradesman ; my taste, my ambition does not lie that way ; but such was the scorn expressed in Lord Tyne- dale's countenance as he pronounced the word trade — such the contemptuous sarcasm of his tone, that I was instantly decided. My father was but a name to me, yet that name I did not like to hear mentioned with a sneer to my very face. I answered then, with haste and warmth, * I can not do better than follow in my father's steps ; yes, I will be a tradesman.' My un- cles did not remonstrate ; they and I parted with mu- tual disgust. In reviewing this transaction, I find that I was quite right to shake off the burden of Tyne- dale's patronage, but a fool for offering my shoulders instantly for the reception of another burden — one which might be more intolerable, and which certainly was yet untried. " I wrote instantly to Edward — ^you know Edward — ^my only brother, ten years my senior, married to a rich mill-owner's daughter, and now possessor of the mill and business which was my father's before he failed. You are aware that my father — once reckon- ed a Croesus of wealth — ^became bankrupt a short time previous to his death, and that my mother lived in destitution fer some six months after him, unhelped ^n J----,f»r;qtocratical brothers, whom she had mortally 12 THE PBOFESSOB. offended by her union with Crimsworth, the shire manufacturer. At the end of the six months she brought me into the world, and then herself left it without, I should think, much regret, as it contained little hope or comfort for her. "My father's relations took charge of Edward, as they did of me till I was nine years old. At that period it chanced that the representation of an import- ant borough in.our county fell vacant. Mr. Seacombe stood for it. My uncle Crimsworth, an astute mer- cantile man, took the opportunity of writing a fierce letter to the candidate, stating that if he and Lord Tynedale did not consent to do something toward the support of their sister's orphan children, he would ex- pose their relentless and malignant conduct toward that sister, and do his best to turn the circumstances against Mr. Seacombe's election. That gentleman and Lord T knew well enough that the Crimsworths were an unscrupulous and determined race ; they knew also that they had influence in the borough of X— ; and, making a virtue of necessity, they consented to defray the expenses of my education. I was sent to Eton, where I remained ten years, during which space of time Edward and I never met. He, when he grew up, entered into trade, and pursued his calling with such diligence, ability, and success, that now, in his thirtieth year, he was fast making a fortune. Of this I was apprised by the occasional short letters I re- ceived from him some three or four times a'year, which said letters never concluded without some expression of determined enmity against the house of Se^omii^ and some reproach to me for^ving, as he said, pi^j^^ THE PBOFESSOR. 13 bounty of that house. At first, while still in boyhood, I could not understand why, as I had no parents, I should not be indebted to my uncles Tynedale and Seacombe for my education ; but as I grew up, and heard by degrees of the persevering hostility, the ha- tred till death evinced by them against my father — of the sufierings of my mother — of all the wrongs, in short, of our house, then did I conceive shame of the dependence in which J lived, and form a resolution no more to take bread fromxhands which had refused to minister to the necessities of my dying mother. It was by these feelings I was influenced when I refused the Rectory of Seacombe, and the union with one of my patrician cousins. " An irreparable breach thus being effected between my uncles and myself, I wrote to Edward, told him what had occurred, and informed him of my intention - to follow his steps and be a -tradesman. I asked, moreover, if he could give me employment. His an- swer expressed no approbation of my conduct, but he said I might come down to shire if I liked, and he would ' see what could be done in the way of fur- nishing me with work.' I repressed all — even mental comment on his note, packed my trunk and carpet- bag, and started for the North directly. " After two days' traveling (rail-roads were not then in existence) I arrived, one wet October afternoon, in the town of X . I had always understood that Edward lived in this town, but on inquiry I found that it was only Mr. Crimsworth's mill and warehouse which '^BBxe situated in the smoky atmosphere of Bigben Close ; his residence lay four miles out, in the country. 14 THE PEOFESSOR. " It was late in the evening when I alighted at the gates of thef habitation designated to me as my broth- er's. As I advanced up the avenue, I could see through the shades of twilight, and the dark, gloomy mists which deepened those shades, that the house was large, and the grounds surrounding it suflSciently spacious* I paused a moment on the lawn in front, and, leaning my back against a tall tree which rose in the centre, I gazed with interest on the exterior of Crimsworth HaU. "* Edward is rich,' thought I to myself. *I be- lieved him to be doing well, but I did not know he was master of a mansion like this.' Cutting short aU marveling, speculation, conjecture, &c., I advanced to the front door and rang. A man-servant opened it — I announced myself — he relieved me of my wet cloak and carpet-bag, and ushered me into a room famished as a library, where there was a bright fire, and candles burning on the table. He informed me that his mas- ter had not yet returned from X market, but that he would certainly be at home in the course of half an hour. " Being left to myself, I took the stuffed easy-chair, covered with red morocco, which stood by the fireside, and while my eyes watched the fiames dart from the glowing coals, and the cinders fall at intervals on the hearth, my mind busied itself in conjectures concern- ing the meeting about to take place. Amid much that was doubtful in the subject of these conjectures, there was one thing tolerably certain : I was in no danger of encountering severe disappointment ; from this, the moderation of my expectations guaranteed me. I. w«- . THE PBOFESSOB. 15 ticipated no overflowings of fraternal tenderness ; Ed- ward's letters had always been such as to prevent the engendering or harboring of delusions of this sort. Still, as I sat awaiting his arrival, I felt eager — ^very- eager — I can not tell you why ; my hand, so utterly a stranger to the grasp of a kindred hand, clenched it- self to repress the tremor with which impatience would fain have shaken it. " I thought of my uncles ; and as I was engaged in wondering whether Edward's indifference would 'equal the cold disdain I had always experienced fronf them, I heard the avenue gates open ; wheels approached the house ; Mr. Crimsworth was arrived ; and after the lapse of some minutes, and a brief dialogue between himself and his servant in the hall, his tread drew near the library door : that tread alone announced the mas- ter of the house. "I still retained some confused recollection of Ed- ward as he was ten years ago — a tall, wiry, raw youth ; now, as I rose from my seat and turned toward the library door, I saw a fine-looking and powerftil man, light-complexioned, well-made, and of athletic propor- tions. The first glance made me aware of an air of promptitude and sharpness, shown as well in his move- ments as in his port, his eye, and the general expres- sion of his face. He greeted me with brevity, and, in the moment of shaking hands, scanned me from head to foot. He took his seat in the morocco-covered arm- chair, and motioned me to another seat. " ' I expected you would have called at the count- ing-house in the Close,' said he ; and his voice, I no- ticed, had an abrupt accent, probably habitual to him. 16 THE PBOFESSOB. He spoke, also, with a guttural Northern tone, which sounded harsh in my ears, accustomed to the silvery utterance of the South. " ' The landlord of the inn, where the coach stopped, directed pae here,' said I. * I doubted at first the ac- curacy of his iilformation, not being aware that you had such a residence as this.' " ' Oh, it is all right,' he replied, * only I was kept half an hour brfund time, waiting for you — ^that is all. I thought you must be coming by the ^ight o'clock coach.' " I expressed regret that he had had to wait. He made no answer, but stirred the fire, as if to^ cover a movement of impatience ; then he scanned me again. " I felt an inward satisfaction that I had not, in the first moment of meeting, betrayed any warmth — any enthusiasm ; that I had saluted this man with a quiet and steady phlegm. . " * Have you quite broken with Tynedale and Sea- combe ?' he asked, hastily. " ' I do not think I shaU have any further commu- nication with them. My refusal of their proposals will, I fancy, operate as a barrier against all future in- tercourse.' " ' Why,' said he, ' I may as well remind you, at the very outset of our connection, " that no man can serve two masters." Acquaintance with Lord Tynedale will be incompatible with assistance firom me.' There was a kind of gratuitous menace in his eye as he looked at me in finishing this observation. " " Feeling no disposition to reply to him, I content- ed myself with an inward speculation t)n the difierences THE PKOFESSOB, ' 17 which exist in the constitution of men's minds* I do not know what inference Mr. Crimsworth drew from my silence — ^whether he considered it a sypiptom of contumacity or an evidence of my being cowed by his peremptory manner. After a long and hard^'stare at me, he rose sharply from his seat. " ' To-morrow/ said he, * I shall call your attention to some other points ; but now it is supper-time, and Mrs. Crimsworth is probably waiting ; will you come ?' "He strode from the room, and I followed. In crossing the hall, I wondered what Mrs. Crimsworth might be. * Is she,* thought I, * as alien to what I like as Tynedale, Seacombe, the Misses Seacombe — as the affectionate relative now striding before me ? or is she better than these? Shall I, in conversing with her, feel free to show something of my real nature ; or — ^ Further conjectures were arrested by my entrance into the dining-room. " A lamp, burning under a shade of ground glass, showed a handsome apartment, wainscoted with oak ; supper was laid on the table \ by the fire-place, stand- ing as if waiting our entrance, appeared a lady ; she was young, taU, and well shaped ; her dress was hand- some and fashionable : so much my first glance suf- ficed to ascertain. A gay salutation passed between her and Mr. Crimsworth. She chid him, half playful- ly, half poutingly, for being late ; her voice (I always take voices into the account in judging of character) wad lively : it indicated, I thought, good animal spir- its. Mr. Crimsworth soon checked her animated scold- ing with a kiss — a kiss that still told of the bijdegroom (they had not yet Jbeen married a year). She took her 18* THE PROFESSOR. seat at the supper-table in first-rate spirits. Perceiv- ing me, she begged my pardon for not noticihg me be- fore, and then shook hands with me, as ladies do when a flow of good-humor disposes them to be cheerfal to all, even the most indifferent of their acquaintance. It was now further obvious to me that she had a good complexion, and features sufficiently marked but agree- able ; her hair was red — quite red. She and Edward talked much, always in a way of playful contention. She was vexed, or pretended to be vexed, that he had that day driven a vicious horse in the gig, and made light of her fears. Sometimes she appealed to me. " 'Now, Mr. William, isn't it absurd in Edward to talk so? He says he will drive Jack, and no other horse, and the brute has thrown him twice already.' '^ She spoke with a kind of lisp, not disagreeal3le, but childish. I soon saw, also, that there was a more than girlish — a somewhat infantine expression in her by no means small features. This lisp and expression were, I have no doubt, a charm in Edward's eyes, and would be so to those of most men, but they were not to mine. I sought her eye, desirous to read there the intelligence which I could not discern in her face or hear in her conversation ; it was merry, rather small ; by turns I saw vivacity, vanity, coquetry, look out through its irid, but I watched in vain for a glimpse of soul. I am no Oriental ; white necks, carmine lips and cheeks, clusters of bright curls, do not suffice for me without that Promethean spark which will live aft- er the roses and lilies are faded, the burnished hair grown gray. In sunshine, in prosperity, the flowers \ are very well ; but how many wet days are there in ^ THE PROFESSOB. 19 / life — November seasons of disaster, when a man's I hearth and home would be cold indeed without the ^ clear, cheering gleam of intellect ! " Having perused the fair page of Mrs. Crimsworth's face, a deep, involuntary sigh announced my disap- pointment. She took it as a homage to her beauty, and Edward, who was evidently proud of his rich and handsome young wife, threw on me a glance, half rid- icule, half ire. •* I turned from them both, and gazing wearily round the room, I saw two pictures set in the oak paneling, one on each side the mantel-piece. Ceasing to take part in the bantering conversation that flowed on be- tween Mr. and Mrs. Crimswortt, I bent my thoughts to the examination of these pictures. They were por- traits — a lady and a gentleman, both costumed in the feshion of twenty years ago. The gentleman was in the shade. I could not see him well. The lady had the benefit of a full beam from the softly shaded lamp. I presently recognized her. I had seen this picture before, in childhood — ^it was my mother ; that and the companion picture being the only heir-looms saved out of the sale of my father's property. " The face, I remembered, had pleased me as a boy, but then I did not understand it ; now I knew how rare that class of face is in the world, and I appreciated keenly its thoughtful yet gentle expression. The seri- ous gray eye possessed for me a strong charm, as did certain lines in the features indicative of most true and tender feeling. I was sorry it was only a picture. " I soon left Mr. and Mrs. Crimsworth to themselves. A servant conducted me to my bed-room. In closing 20 THE PROFESSOR. my chamber door, I shut out all intruders — you, Charles, as well as the rest* " Good-by for the present. " William Crimsworijh.*' , To this letter I never got an answer. Before my old friend received it he had accepted a government appointment in one of the colonies, and was already on his way to the scene of his official labors. What has become of him since I know not. The leisure time I have at command, and which I intended to employ for his private benefit, I shall now dedicate to that of the public at large. My narrative is not exciting, and, above all, not marvelous ; but it may interest some individuals, who, having toiled in the same vocation as myself, will find in my experi- ence frequent reflections of their own. The above let- ter will serve as introduction. I now proceed. CHAPTER n. A FINE October morning succeeded to the foggy evening that had witnessed my first introduction to Crimsworth HalL I was early up and walking in the large park-like meadow surrounding the house. The autumn sun, rising over the shire hills, disclosed a pleasant country ; woods brown and mellow varied the fields from which the harvest had been lately carried ; a river, gliding between the woods, caught on its sur- face the somewhat cold gleam of the October sun and ,'r THE PROPESSOK. 21 sky ; at frequent intervals along the banks of the river, tall, cylindrical chimneys, almost like slender round towers, indicated the factories which the trees half con- cealed; here and there mansions, similar to Crims- worth Hall, occupied agreeahle sites^on the hill side ; the country wore, on the whole, a cheerful, active, fer- tile look. Steam, trade, machinery had long banished firom it all romance and seclusion. At a distance of five miles, a valley, opening between the low hills, held in its cups the great town of X . A dense, per- manent vapor brooded over this locality : there lay Ed- ward's " concern. ** I forced my eye to scrutinize this prospect, I forced my mind to dwell on it for a time, and when I found that it communicated no pleasurable emotion to my heart — ^that it stirred in me none of the hopes a man ought to feel when he sees laid before him the scene of his life's career, I said to myself, " William, you are a rebel against circumstances ; you are a fool, and know not what you want ; you have chosen trade, and you shall be a tradesman. Look !'* I continued, mentally, " look at the sooty smoke in that hollow, and know that there is your post. There you can not dream, you can not speculate and theorize — there you shall out and work." Thus self-schooled, I returned to the house. My brother was in the breakfast-room. I met him collect- edly — ^I could not meet him cheerfully. He was standing on the rug, his back to the fire. How much did I read in the expression of his eye as my glance encountered his, when I advanced to bid him good- morning — ^how much that was contradictory to my na- 22 THE PKOFESSOB. ture ! He said " Good-morning" atruptly, and nod*^ ded, and then he snatched, rather than took, a news-, paper from the table, and began to read it with the air of a master who seizes a pretext to escape the bore of conversing with an underling. It was well I had taken a resolution to endure for a time, or his manner would have gone far to render insupportable the disgust I had just been endeavoring to subdue. I looked at Km. I measured his robust frame and powerful proportions ; I saw my own reflection in the mirror over the mantel- piece ; I amused myself with comparing the two pic- tures. In face I resembled him, though I was not so handsome ; my features were less regular ; I had a darker eye and a broader brow ; in form I was great- ly inferior — ^thinner, slighter, not so talL As an ani- mal, Edward excelled me far ; should he prove as par- amount in mind as in person, I must be his slave, for I must expect from him no lion-like generosity to one weaker than himself; lis cold, avaricious eye, his stem, forbidding manner, told me he would not spare. Had I, then, force of mind to cope with him ? I did not know ; I had never been tried. Mrs. Crimsworth's entrance diverted my thoughts for a moment. She looked well, dressed in white, her face and her attire shining in morning and bridal fresh- ness. I addressed her with the degree of ease her last night's careless gayety seemed to warrant, but she re- plied with coolness and restraint. Her husband had tutored her ; she was not to be too familiar with his clerk. As soon as breakfast was over, Mr. Crimsworth in- timated to me that they were bringing the gig round THE PEOFESSOE. 23 to the door, and that in five minuted he should expect me to be ready to go down with him to X • I did not keep him waiting; we were soon dashing at a rapid rate along the road* The horse he drove was the same vicious animal about which Mrs. Crimsworth had expressed her fears the night before. Once or twice Jack seemed disposed to turn restive, but a vig- orous and determined application of the whip from the ruthless hand of his master soon compelled him to submission, and Edward's dilated nostril expressed his triumph in the result of the contest. He scarcely spoke to me during the whole of the brief drive, only opening his lips at intervals to damn his horse. X was all stir and bustle when we entered it. We left the dean streets where there were dwelling- houses and shops, churches and public buildings — ^we left all these, and turned down to a region of mills and warehouses ; thence we passed through two massive gates into a great paved yard, and we were in Bigben Close, and the mill was before us, vomiting soot from its long chimney, and quivering through its thick brick walls with the commotion of its iron bowels. Work- people were passing to and fro ; a wagon was being laden with pieces. Mr. Crimsworth looked from side to side, and seemed at one glance to comprehend all that was going on. He alighted, and leaving his horse and gig to the care of a man who hastened to take the. reins from his hand, he bid me follow him to the count- ing-house. We entered it ; a very different place from the parlors of Crimsworth Hall — a place for business, with a bare planked floor, a safe, two high desks and stools, and some chairs. A person was seated at one 24 THE PROFESSOK. of the desks, who took off his square cap when Mr. Crimsworth entered, and in an instant was again ab- sorbed in his occupation of writing or calculating, I know not which. Mr. Crimsworth, having removed his Mackintosh, sat down bj the fire. I remained standing near the hearth. He said presently, " Steighton, you may leave the room. I have some .business to transact with this gentleman. Come back when you hear the belL" The individual at the desk rose and departed, clos- ing the door as he went out. Mr. Crimsworth stirred the fire^ then folded his arms, and sat a moment think- ing, his lips compressed, his brow knit. I had noth- ing to do but to watch him. How wdl hif» '^ ' were cut ! what a handsome man he was ! \v nence, then, came that air of contraction — ^that narrow and hard aspect on his forehead, in all his lineaments? Turning to me, he began abruptly, "You are come down to ^shire to learn to be a tradesman ?" «Yes,Iam.'' " Have you made up your mind on the point ? Let me know that at once.'* "Yes.'' " Well, I am not bound to help you, but I have a place here vacant, if you are qualified for it. I will take you on trial. "What can you do ? Do you know any thing besides that useless trash of college learn- ing — Greek, Latin, and so forth ?" "I have studied mathematics." " Stuff! I dare say you have." THE PBOFESSOB. 25 ** I can read and write French and German.*' "Hum P' He reflected a moiiient, then opening a drawer in a desk near him, took out a letter and gave it to me. " Can you read that ?" he asked. It was a Grerman commercial letter. I translated it. I could not tell whether he was gratified or not : his countenance remain,ed fi;sed. "It is well," he said, after a pause, "that you are acquainted with something useful, something that may enable you to earn your toard and lodging. Since you know French and Grerman, I will take you as sec- ond clerk to manage the foreign correspondence of the house. I shall give you a good salary — £90 a year — and B«Kj" he continued, raising his voice, " hear once for all'Svnat I have to say ahout our relationship, and all that sort of humbug. I must have no nonsense on that point ; it would never suit me. I shall excuse you nothing on the plea of being my brother. If I find you stupid, negligent, dissipated, idle, or possess- ed of any faults detrimental to the interests of the house, I shall dismiss you as I would any other clerk. Ninety pounds a year are good wages, and I expect to have the full value of my money out of you ; remem- ber, too, that things are on a practical footing in my establishment — ^business-like habits, feelings, and ideas suit me best. Do you understand ?" " Partly," I replied. " I suppose you mean that I am to do my work for my wages ; not to expect favor from you, and not to depend on you for any help but what I earn? That suits me exactly, and on these terms I will consent to be your clerk." B 26 THE PKOFESSOR. I turned on my heel and walked to the window. This time I did not consult his face to learn his opin- ion. What it was I do not know, nor did I then care. After a silence of some minutes he recommenced : "You perhaps expect to be accommodated with apartments at Crimsworth Hall, and to go and come with me in the gig. I wish you, however, to be aware that such an arrangement would be quite inconvenient to me. I like to have the seat in my gig at liberty for any gentleman whom for business reasons I may wish to take down for a night or so. You will seek out lodgings in X ." Quitting the window, I walked back to the hearth. " Of course I shall seek out lodgings in X ," I answered. " It would not suit me either to lodge at Crimsworth Hall." My tone was quiet ; I always speak quietly. Yet Mr. Crimsworth's blue eye became incensed. He took his revenge rather oddly. Turning to me, he said bluntly, " You are poor enough, I suppose ; how do you ex- pect to live till your quarter's salary becomes due ?" " I shall get on," said I. " How do you expect to live?" he repeated, in a louder voice. " As I can, Mr. Crimsworth." " Get into debt at your peril, that's all," he an- swered. " For aught I know, you may have extrav- agant aristocratic habits ; if you have, drop them ; I tolerate nothing of the sort here, and I will never give you a shilling extra, whatever liabilities you may in- cur — ^mind that." THE PROFESSOR. 27 " Yes, Mr. Crimsworth, you will find I have a good memory." I said no more. I did not think the time was come for such parley. I had an instinctive feding that it would be folly to let one's temper effervesce often with such a man as Edward. I said to myself, ^' I will place my cup under this continual dropping ; it shall stand there still and steady; when full, it will run over of itself — ^meantime patience. Two things are certain : I am capable of performing the work Mr. Crimsworth has set me ; !f can earn my wages consci- entiously, ittid those wages are sufficient to enable me to live. As to the feet of my brother assuming toward me the bearing of a proud, harsh master, the fault is his, not mine ; and shall his injustice, his bad feeling, turn me at once aside from the path I have chosen ? No ; at least, ere I deviate, I will advance far enough to see whither my career tends. As yet I am only pressing in at the entrance — a strait gate enough ; it ought to have a good terminus." While I thus rea- soned, Mr. Crimsworth rang a bell ; his first clerk, the individual dismissed previously to our conference, re- entered. " Mr. Steighton," said he, " show Mr. William the letters from Voss, Brothers, and give him English copies of the answers : he will translate them." Mr. Steighton, a man of about thirty-five, with a face at once sly and heavy, hastened to execute this order. He laid the letters on the desk, and I was soon seated at it, and engaged in rendering the English answers into German. A sentiment of keen pleasure accompanied this first effort to earn my own living — a 28 THE PEOFESSOtt. sentiment neither poisoned nor weakened by the pres- ence of the taskmaster, who stood and watched me for some time as I wrote. I thought lie was trying to read my character, but I felt as secure against his scrutiny as if I had had on a casque with the visor down— or rather I showed him my countenance with the confidence that one would show an unlearned man a letter written in Greek. He might see lines and trace characters, but he could make nothing of them ; my nature was not his nature, and its signs were to him like the words of an unknown tongue. Ere long he turned away abruptly, as if baflBied, and left the counting-house. He returned to it but twice in the course of that day; each time he mixed and swallowed a glass of brandy and water, the materials for making •which he extracted from a cupboard on one side of the fire-place. Haying glanced at my translations — he could read both French and Gferman — ^he went out again in silence. CHAPTER m. I SERVED Edward as his second clerk faithfully, punctually, diligently. What was given me to do I had the power and the determination to do well. Mr. Crimsworth watched sharply for defects, but found none; he set Timothy Steighton, his favorite and head man, to watch also. Tim was baffled ; I was as exact as himself, and quicker. Mr. Crimsworth made inquiries as to how I lived — ^whether I got into debt. THE PROPESSOE. 29 No, my accounts with my landlady were always straight. I had hired small lodgings, which I con- trived to pay for out of a slender fund, the accumu- lated savings of my Eton pocket-money ; for, as it had ever been abhorrent to my nature to ask pecun- iary assistance, I had earfy acquired habits of self-de- nying economy, husbanding my monthly allowance with anxious care, in order to obviate the danger of being forced, in some moment of future exigency, to beg additional aid. I remember many called me miser at the time, and I used to couple the reproach with this consolation — ^better to be misunderstood now than repulsed hereafter. At this day I had my reward ; I had had it before, when, on parting with my irritated uncles, one of them threw down on the table before me a £5 note, which I was able to leave there, saying that my traveling expenses were already provided for. Mr. Crimsworth employed Tim to find out whether my landlady had any complaint to make on the score of my morals. She answered that she believed I was a very religious man, and asked Tim, in her turn, if he thought 1 had any intention of going into the Church some day ; for, she said, she had had young curates to lodge in her house who were nothing equal to me for steadiness and quietness. Tim was " a religious man" himself; indeed, he was "a joined Methodist," which did not (be it understood) prevent him from be- ing at the same time an ingrained rascal, and he came away much posed at hearing this account of my piety. Having imparted it to Mr. Crimsworth, that gentle- man, who himself frequented no place of worship, and owned no God but Mammon, turned the information 30 THE PROFESSOR. into a weapon of attack against the equability of my temper. He commenced a series of covert sneers, of which I did not at first perceive the drift, till my land- lady happened to relate the conversation she had had with Mr. Steighton ; this enlightened me ; afterward I came to the counting-house prepared, and managed to receive the mill-owner's blasphemous sarcasms, when • next leveled at me, on a buckler of impenetrable indif- ference. Ere long he tired of wasting his ammunition on a statue, but he did not throw away the shafts — he only kept them quiet in his quiver. Once during my clerkship I had an invitation to Crimsworth Hall : it was on the occasion of a large party given in honor of the master's birthday. He had always been accustomed to invite his clerks on similar anniversaries, and could not well pass me over. I was, however, kept in the background. Mrs. Crims- worth, elegantly dressed in satin and lace, blooming in youth and health, vouchsafed me no more notice than was expressed by a distant move. Crimsworth, of course, never spoke to me. I was introduced to none of the band of young ladies, who, enveloped in silvery clouds of white gauze and muslin, sat in array against me on the opposite of a long and large room ; in fact, I was fairly isolated, and could but contem- plate the shining ones from afar, and, when weary of such a dazzling scene, turn for a change to the consid- eration of the carpet pattern. Mr. Crimsworth, stand- ing on the rug, his elbow supported by the marble mantel-piece, and about him a group of very pretty girls, with whom he conversed gayly — Mr. Crimsworth, thus placed, glanced at me. I looked weary, solitary, THE PEOFESSOR, 31 tept down like some desolate tutor or governess. He was satisfied. Dancing began. I should have liked well enough to be introduced to some pleasing and intelligent girl, and to have freedom and opportunity to show that I could both feel and communicate the pleasure of social intercourse — ^that I was not, in short, a block, or a piece of furniture, but an acting, thinking, sentient man. Many smiling faces and graceful figures glided past me, but the smiles were lavished on other eyes, the figures sustained by other hands than mine. I turned away tantalized, left the dancers, and wandered into the oak-paneled dining-room. No fibre of sympa- thy united me to any living thing in this house. I looked for and found my mother's picture. I took a wax taper from a stand, and held it up. I gazed long, earnestly ; my heart grew to the image. My mother, I perceived, had bequeathed to me much of her fea- tures and countenance — her forehead, her eyes, her complexion. No regular beauty pleases egotistical human beings so much as a softened and refined like- ness of themselves ; for this reason, fathers regard with complacency the lineaments of their daughters' faces, where frequently their own similitude is found flatteringly associated with softness of hue and deli- cacy of outline. I was just wondering how that pic- ture, to me so interesting, would strike an impartial spectator, when a voice close behind me pronounced the words, " Humph ! there's some sense in that face." I turned. At my elbow stood a taU man, young, though probably five or six years older than I — ^in 32 THE PROFESSOR. Other respects of an appearance the opposite to com- _ monplace ; though just now, as I am not disposed to paint his portrait in detail, the reader must be content with the silhouette I have just thrown off; it was all I myself saw of him for the moment : I did not in- vestigate the color of his eyebrows, nor of his eyes either ; I saw his stature, and the outline of his shape ; I saw, too, his fastidious retrousse nose : these obser- vations, few in number and general in character (the last excepted), sufficed, for they enabled me to recog- nize him. "Good-evening, Mr. Hunsden," muttered I, with a bow, and then, like a shy noodle as I was, I began moving away — and why ? Simply because Mr. Huns- den was a manufacturer and a mill-owner, and I was only a clerk, and my instinct propelled me from my superior. I had frequently seen Hunsden in Bigben Close, where he came almost weekly to transact busi- ness with Mr. Crimsworth, but I had never spoken to him, nor he to me, and I owed him a sort of involun- tary grudge, because he had more than once been the tacit witness of insults offered by Edward to me, I . had the conviction that he could only regard me as a poor-spirited slave, wherefore I now went about to shun his presence and eschew his conversation. " Where qre you going?" asked he, as I edged off sideways. I had already noticed that Mr. Hunsden indulged in abrupt forms of speech, and I perversely said to myself " He thinks he may speak as he likes to a poor clerk ; but my mood is not perhaps so supple as he deems it, and his rough freedom pleases me not at all.'* THE PROFESSOR. S3 I made some slight reply, rather indifferent than courteous, and continued to move away. He qooUy planted himself in my path. *' Stay here a while," said he : ** it is so hot in the dancing-room ; besides, you don't dance ; you have not had a partner to-night." He was right ; and as he spoke, neither his look, tone, nor manner displeased me ; my amour-^rcfpre was propitiated ; he had not addressed me out of con- descension, but because, having repaired to the cool dining-room for refreshment, he now wanted some one fo talk to by way of temporary amusement. I hate to be condescended to, but I like well enough to oblige: I staid.- " That is a good picture," he continued, recurring to the portrait. " Do you consider the face pretty ?" I asked. " Pretty ! no : how can it be pretty with sunk eyes and hollow cheeks ? But it is peculiar ; it seems to think. You could have a talk with that woman, if she were alive, on other subjects than dress, visiting, and compliments." I agreed with him, but did not say so. He went on : " Not that I admire a head of that sort ; it wants character and force ; there's too much of the sen-si-tive (so he articulated it, curling liis lip at the same time) in that mouth ; besides, there is Aristocrat written on the brow and defined in the figure ; I hate your aris- tocrats." " You think, then, Mr. Hunsden, that patrician de- scent may be read in a distinctive cast of form and features ?" B2 34 THE PROFESSOR. ** Patrician descent be hanged ! Who doubts that your lordlings may have their ' distinctive cast of form and features' as much as we shire tradesmen have ours ? But which is the best ? Not theirs, assuredly. As to their women, it is a little different : they culti- vate beauty from childhood upward, and may by care and training attain to a certain degree of excellence in that point, just like the Orient odalisques. Yet even this superiority is doubtful. Compare the figure in that frame with Mrs. Edward Crimsworth — which is the finer animal ?" I replied quietly, " Compare yourself and Mr. Ed- ward Crimsworth, Mr. Hunsden." " Oh, Crimsworth is better filled up than I am, I know; besides, he has a straight nose, arched eye- brows, and all that ; but these advantages — ^if they are advantages — ^he did not inherit from his mother, the patrician, but from his father, old Crimsworth, who, ray father says, was as veritable a shire blue-dyer as ever put indigo into a vat, yet, withal, the hand- somest man in the three Kidings. It is you, William, who are the aristocrat of your family, and you are not as fine a fellow as your plebeian brother by a long chalk." There was something in Mr. Hunsden's point-blank mode of speech which rather pleased me than other- wise, because it set me at my ease. I continued the conversation with a degree of interest. " How do you happen to know that I am Mr. Crims- worth's brother ? I thought you and every body else looked upon me only in the light of a poor clerk." " Well, and so we do ; and what are you but a. poor THE PROFESSOR* 35 clerk ? You do Crimsworth's work, and he gives you wages — shabby wages they are, too." I was silent, Hunsden's language now bordered on the impertinent ; still, his manner did not offend me in the least — ^it only piqued my curiosity, I wanted him to go on, which he did in a little while. " This world is an absurd one," said he, " Why so, Mr. Hunsden ?" " I wonder you should ask : you are yourself a strong proof of the absurdity I allude to." I was determined he should explain himself of his own accord, without my pressing him so to do, so I resumed my silence. " Is it your intention to become a tradesman ?" he inquired, presently. "It was my serious intention three months ago." " Humph ! the more fool you — ^you look like a trades- man ! What a practical business-like face you have !" " My face is as the Lord made it, Mr. Hunsden." " The Lord never made either your face or head for X . What good can your bumps of ideality, com- parison, self-esteem, conscientiousness, do you here ? But if you like Bigben Close, stay there ; it's your own affair, not mine." " Perhaps I have ho choice." " Well, I care naught about it ; it will make little difference to me what you do or where you go ; but I'm cool now : I want to dance again ; and I see such a fine girl sitting in the comer of the sofa there by her mamma — see if I don't get her for a partner in a jiff)r ! There's Waddy — Sam Waddy making up to her; ' won't I cut him out ?" 36 THE PROFESSOR. And Mr. Hunsden strode away. I watched him through the open folding-doors. He outstripped Wad- dy, appKed for the hand of the fine girl, and led her off triumphant. She was a tall, well-made, full-form- ed, dashingly-dressed young woman, much in the style of Mrs. E. Crimsworth. Hunsden whirled her through the waltz with spirit. He kept at her side during the remainder of the evening, and I read in her animated and gratified countenance that he succeeded in making himself perfectly agreeable. The mamma too (a stout person in a turban — Mrs. Lupton by name) looked well pleased ; prophetic visions probably flattered her in- ward eye. The Hunsdens were of an old stem ; and scornful as Yorke (such was my late interlocutor's name) professed to be of the advantages of birth, in his secret heart he well knew and fully appreciated the distinction his ancient, if not high lineage conferred on him in a mushroom place like X , concerning whose inhabitants it was proverbially said that not one in a thousand knew his own grandfather. Moreover, the Hunsdens, once rich, were still independent ; and re- port affirmed that Yorke bade fair, by his success in business, to restore to pristine prosperity the partially decayed fortunes of his house. These circumstances considered, Mrs. Lupton's broad face might well wear a smile of complacency as she contemplated the heir of Hunsden Wood occupied in paying assiduous court to her darling Sarah Martha. I, however, whose ob- servations, being less anxious, were likely to be more accurate, soon saw that the grounds for maternal self- congratulation were slight indeed ; the gentleman ap- peared to me much more desirous of making than sus- THE PROFESSOR. 87 ceptible of receiving an impression. I know not what it was in Mr. Hansden that, as I watched him (I had nothing better to do), suggested to me, every now and then, the idea of a foreigner. In form and features he might be pronounced English, though even there one caught a dash of something Gallic ; but he had no En- glish shyness. He had learned somewhere, somehow, the art of setting himself quite at his ease, and of al- lowing no insular timidity to intervene as a barrier be- tween him and his convenience or pleasure. Refine- ment he did not afiect, yet vulgar he could not be call- ed^; he was not odd — ^no jquiz ; yet he resembled no one else I had ever seen before. His general bearing intimated complete, sovereign satisfaction with himself*; yet, at times, an indescribable shade passed like an eclipse over his countenance, and seemed to me like the sign of a sudden and strong inward doubt of him- self, his words and actions — an energetic discontent at his life or his social position, his future prospects or his mental attainments, I know not which ; perhaps, after all, it might only be a bilious caprice. CHAPTER IV. No man likes to acknowledge that he has made a mistake in the choice of his profession, and every man worthy of the name will row long against wind and tide before he allows himself to cry out "I am baffled," and submits to be floated passively back to land. From the first week of my residence in X I felt 38 THE PBOPESSOK. my occupation irksome. The thing itself — ^the work of copying and translating business letters — ^was a dry and tedious task enough, but had that been all, I should long have borne with the nuisance. I am not of an impatient nature, and influenced by the double desire of getting my living and justifying to myself and oth- ers the resolution I had taken to become a tradesman, I should have endured in silence the rust and cramp of my best faculties ; I should not have whispered, even inwardly, that I longed for liberty ; I should have pent in every sigh hj which my heart might have ven- tured to intimate its distress iinder the closeness, smoke, monotony, and joyless tumult of Bigben Close, and its panting desire for freer and fresher scenes ; I should have set up the image of Duty, the fetish of Persever- ance, in my small bed-room at Mrs. King's lodgings, and they two should have been my household gods, from which my darUng, my cherished-in-secret. Im- agination, the tender and the mighty, should never, either by softness or strength, have severed me. But this was not all ; the antipathy which had sprung up between myself and my employer striking deeper root and spreading denser shade daily, excluded me from every glimpse of the sunshine of life, and I began to feel like a plant growing in humid darkness out of the slimy walls of a well. Antipathy is the only word which can express the feeling Edward Crims worth had for me — a feeling in a great measure involuntary, and which was liable to be excited by every, the most trimng movement, look, or word of mine. My Southern accent annoyed him ; the d^ee of education evinced in my language irri- THE PROFESSOR. 39 tated him; my punctuality, industry, and accuracy fixed his dislike, and gave it the high flavor and poign- ant relish of envy ; he feared that I too should one day make a successful tradesman. Had I been in any thing inferior to him, he would not have hated me so thoroughly ; but I knew all that he knew, and, what was worse, he suspected that I kept the padlock of si- lence on mental wealth ia which he was no sharer. K he could have once placed me in a ridiculous or morti- fying position, he would have forgiven me much, but I was guarded by three faculties — Caution, Tact, Obser- vation; and prowling and prying as was Edward's malignity, it could never baffle the lynx-eyes of these, my natural sentinels. Day by day did his malice watch my tact, hoping it would sleep, and prepared to steal snake-like on its slumber ; but tact, if it be gen- uine, never sleeps. I had received my first quarter's wages and was re- turning to my lodgings, possessed heart and soul with the pleasant feeling that the master who had paid me grudged every penny of that hard-earned pittance — (I had long ceased to regard Mr. Crimsworth as my broth- er : he was a hard, grinding master i he wished to be an inexorable tyrant — ^that was all). Thoughts, not varied but strong, occupied my mind; two voices spoke within me; again and again they uttered the same monotonous phrases. One said, " William, your life is intolerable." The other, " What can you do to al- ter it?" I walked. fast, for it was a cold, firosty night in January. As I approf^ched my lodgings, I turned from a general view of my afiairs to the particular spec- ulation as to whether my fire would be out. Look- 40 THE PKOFESSOR* - , ing toward the window of my sitting-room, I saw no cheering red gleam. " That slut of a servant has neglected it as usual," said L '' I shall see nothing but pale ashes if I go in. It is a fine starlight night — ^I will walk a little farther." It was SL fine night, and the streets were dry and even dean for X ; there was a crescent curve of moonlight to be seen by the parish church tower, and hundreds of stars shone keenly bright in all quarters of the sky. Unconsciously I steered my course toward the coun- try. I had got into Grove Street, and began to feel the pleasure, of seeing dim trees at the extremity, round a suburban house, when a person leaning over the iron gate of one of the small gardens which front the neat dwelling-houses in thia street addressed me as I was hurrying with quick stride past. " What the deuce is the hurry ? Just so must Lot have left Sodom when he expected fire to pour down upon it out of burning brass clouds." I stopped short and looked toward the speaker. I smelt the fragrance, and saw the red spark of a cigar ; the dusk outline of a man, too, bent toward me over the wicket. " You see I am meditating in the field at eventide," continued this shade. *' God knows it's cool work, especially as, instead of Bebecca on a camel's hump, with bracelets on her arms and a ring in her nose. Fate sends me only a counting-house derk in a gray tweed wrapper." The voice was familiar to me ; its second utterance enabled me to seize the speaker's identity. THE PBOFESSOR. 41 " Mr. Hunsden — good-evening." '* Good-evening, indeed ! Yes, but you would have passed me without recognition if I had not been so civil as to speak first." ** I did not know you." "A famous excuse! Tou ought to have known me ; I knew you, though you were going ahead like a steam-^engine. Are the police after you ?" " It wouldn't be worth their while ; I'm not of con- sequence enough to attract them." "Alas! poor shepherd. Alack and well-a-day! What a theme for regret, and how down in the mouth you must be, judging from the sound of your voice ! But, since you're not running from the police, from whom are you running — ^the devil ?" " On the contrary, I am going post to him." *' That is well; you're just in luck. This is Tues- day evening ; there are scores of market gigs and carts returning to Dinneford to-night, and he, or some of his, have a seat in aU regularly ; so, if you'll step in and- sit half an hour in my bachelor's parlor, you will catch him as he passes without much trouble. I think, though, you'd better let him alone to-night, he'll have so many customers to serve ; Tuesday is his busy day in X and Dinneford. Come in, at all events." He swung the wicket open as he spoke. " Do you really wish me to go in ?" I asked. " As you please — I'm alone ; your company for an hour or two would be agreeable to me ; but, if you don't choose to favor me so far, I'll not press the point. I hate to bore any one." It ^ited me to accept the invitation as it suited 42 THE PROFESSOR. Hunsden to give it. I passed througn the gate, and followed him to the front door, which he opened ; thence we traversed a passage and entered his parlor ; the door being shut, he pointed me to an arm-chair by the hearth. I sat down, and glanced round me. It was a comfortable room, at once snug and hand- some; the bright grate was filled with a genuine shire fire, red, clear, and generous — ^no penurious south of England embers happed in the comer of a grate. On the table a shaded lamp diffused around a soft, pleas- ant, and equal light ; the furniture was almost luxuri- ous for a young bachelor, comprising a couch and two very easy chairs ; book-shelves filled the recesses on each side of the mantel-piece : they were well-furnish- ed, and arranged with perfect order. The neatness of the room suited my taste ; I hate irregular and sloven- ly habits. From what I saw, I concluded that Huns- den's ideas on that point corresponded with my own. While he removed frorii the centre-table to the side- board a few pamphlets and periodicals, I ran my eye along the shelves of the book-case nearest me. French and German works predominated, the old French dram- atists, sundry modem authors, Thiers, Villemain, Paul de Kock, George Sand, Eugene Sue ; in German, Goe- the, Schiller, Zschokke, Jean Paul Eichter ; in English there were works on Political Economy. I examined no further, for Mr. Hunsden himself recalled my atten- tion. "Tou shall have something," said he, "for you ought to feel disposed for refreshment after walking nobody knows how far on such a Canadian night as this ; but it shall not be brandy and water, audit shall THE PROFESSOR. 43 not be a bottle of port, nor ditto of sherry. I keep no such poison. I have Rhein wein for my own drink- ing, and you may choose between that and coffee." Here again Hunsden suited me. J£ there was one generally received practice I abhorred more than an- other, it was the habitual imbibing of spirits and strong wines. I had, however, no fancy for his acid German nectar, but I liked coffee, so I responded, " Give me some coffee, Mr, Hunsden." I perceived my answer pleased him. He had doubt- less expected to see a chilling effect produced by his steady announcement that he would give me neither wine nor spirits. He just shot one searching glance at my face to ascertain whether my cordiality was gen- uine or a mere feint of politeness. I smiled, because I quite understood him ; and, while I honored his con- scientious firmness, I was amused at his mistrust. He seemed satisfied, rang the bell, and ordered coffee, which was presently brought ; for himself, a bunch of grapes and half a pint of something sour suflSced. My coffee was excellent. I told him so, and expressed the shuddering pity with which his anchorite fare in- spired me. He did not answer, and I scarcely think heard my remark. At that moment one of those mo- mentary eclipses I before alluded to had come over his face, extinguishing his smile, and replacing, by an ab- stracted and alienated look, the customarily shrewd, bantering glance of his eye. I employed the interval of silence in a rapid scrutiny of his physiognomy. I had never observed him closely before, and, as my sight is very short, I had gathered only a vague, gen- eral idea of his appearance. I was surprised now, on 44 THE PROFESSOR. examination, to perceive how small and even femi- nine were his lineaments. His tall figure, long and dark locks, his voice and general bearing, had impress- ed me with the notion of something powerful and mass- ive. Not at all; my own features were cast in a harsher and squarer mould than his. I discerned that there would be contrasts between his inward and out- ward man ; contentions too ; for I suspected his soul had more of will and ambition than his body had of fibre and muscle. Perhaps in these incompatibilities of the " physique" with the " morale" lay the secret of that fitful gloom ; he would but could not, and the athletic mind scowled scorn on its more fragile com- panion. As to his good looks, I should have liked to have a woman's opinion on that subject : it seemed to me that his face might produce the same efiect on a lady that a very piquant and interesting, though scarcely pretty female face would on a man. I have mentioned his dark locks: they were brushed side- ways above a white and sufficiently expansive fore- head; his cheek had a rather hectic freshness; his features might have done well on canvas, but indifier- ently in marble : they were plastic ; character had set a stamp upon each; expression recast them at her pleasure, and strange metamorphoses she wrought, giving him now the mien of a morose bull, and anon that of an arch and mischievous girl ; more frequently the two semblances were blent, and a queer, composite countenance they made. Starting from his silent fit, he began : " William, what a fool you are to live in those dis- mal lodgings of Mrs. King's, when you might take THE PKOFESSOR. 45 rooms here in Grove Street, and have a garden like me. " I should be too far from the mill.'* " What of that ? It would do you good to walk there and back two or three times a day; besides, are you such a fossil that you never wish to see a flower or a green leaf?" " I am no fossil." " What are you, then ? Tou sit at that desk in Crimsworth's counting-house day by day and week by week, scraping with a pen on paper just like an au- tomaton ; you never get up ; you never say you are tired ; you never ask for a holiday ; you never take change or relaxation ; you give way to no excess of an evening ; you neither keep wild company, nor in- dulge in strong drink." " Do you, Mr. Hunsden?" "Don't think to pose me with short questions. Your case and mine are diametrically different, and it is nonsense to draw a parallel. I say that when a man endures patiently what ought to be unendurable, he is a fossil." " Whence do you acquire the knowledge of my pa- tience?" "Why, man, do you suppose you are a mystery? The other night you seemed surprised at my knowing to what family you belonged ; now you find subject for wonderment in my calling you patient. What do you think I do with my eyes and ears ? Fve been in your counting-house more than once when Crimsworth has treated you like a dog ; called for a book, for in- stance, and when you gave him the wrong one, or what 46 THE PROFESSOR, he chose to consider the wrong one, flung it back al- most in your face ; desired you to shut or open the door as if you had been his flunkey ; to say nothing of your position at the party about a month ago, where you had neither place nor partner, but hovered about like a poor, shabby hanger-on ; and how patient you were under each and all of these circumstances!" ' " Well, Mr. Hunsden, what then ?" " I can hardly tell you what then. The conclusion to be drawn as to your character depends upon the nature of the motives which guide your conduct. If you are patient because you expect to make something eventually out of Crimsworth, notwithstanding his tyr- anny, or perhaps by means of it, you are what the world calls an interested and mercenary, but may be a very wise fellow ; if you are patient because you think it a duty to meet insult with submission, you are an essential sap, and in no shape the man for my money ; if you are patient because your nature is phlegmatic, flat, inexcitable, and that you can not get up to the pitch of resistance, why, God made you to be crush- ed ; and lie down, by all means, and lie flat, and let Juggernaut ride well over you." Mr. Hunsden's eloquence was not, it will be per- ceived, of the smooth and oily order. As he spoke, he pleased me ill. I seemed to recognize in him one of those characters who, sensitive enough themselves, are selfishly relentless toward the sensitiveness of others. Moreover, though he was neither like Crimsworth nor Lord Tynedale, yet lie was acrid, and, I suspected, overbearing in his way : there was a tone of despot- ism in the urgency of the very reproaches by which he THE PEOFESSOR. 47 aimed at goading the oppressed into rebellion against the oppressor. Looking at him still more fixedly than 1 had yet done, I saw written in his eye and mien a resolution to arrogate to himself a freedom so unlimit- ed that it might often trench on the just liberty of his neighbors. I rapidly ran over these thoughts, and then I laughed a low and involuntary laugh, moved thereto by a slight inward revelation of the inc